Now that our bundle of wonder knows exactly what a spoon can do, nothing edible is safe from his ferociously effective scooping technique, writes Ben Keenan.
One of the most perfect things I’ve experienced since he was born is that Tom now sits at our kitchen table with a passion for food that fills me with pride and inspires deeply unsuitable meal ideas in my brain thanks to my huge and eclectic collection of cookery books. Life now seems even more exciting thanks to the simple joy of eating together as a family.
There are moments, however, that have arisen in the last week that although hard to comprehend are incredibly hilarious to behold. t all starts at breakfast which, thanks to a recent growth spurt, takes place at about 5am these days. Forgetting for a moment that I’m still 80 per cent asleep, the main problem is getting Tom to bend into a seated position. The boy, who less than a month ago was as easy to manoeuvre as a squishy BMW, is now as rigid and as straight as a redwood tree. I seem to spend more time attempting get him into chairs than I do at work but, despite this, I’m deeply impressed and entertained by his new-found commitment to standing.
Once he’s strapped in, food is placed before him or sometimes offered from a spoon, depending on its texture. I will always remember his look of wide eyed amazement the first time his taste buds dealt with mango puree and have never laughed harder than the day we gave him a vegetable casserole he didn’t like. When pleased with a new flavour, he’ll aid the spoon’s journey from bowl to mouth with speed and enthusiasm but offer him something he doesn’t want, and he turns into a moody ninja who can knock the cutlery from your hand with kung fu precision. An extraordinary world of deliciousness now awaits my son three times a day and, because I can remember almost every morsel of incredible food I’ve inhaled since the age of three, this next phase of parenting is one I have been greedily awaiting.